11 Lucius Drabble
by avandareill.snape
Summary: just 11 drabble about Lucius... About love, friendship, duty... and his life. Please R&R!
1. House

**1. House**

It stands like a monument on dark green velvet.

It is the way he measures his line, his ancestors.

Here: one layer of stone, heavy and coarsely cut. Here another: bricks, formed by sun and rain. There another. A new brick to repair a crumbled wall.

That is how he sees himself: Crumbled mortar, new stones. Restoration. A line through time and room.

A white manor house, lonely in the middle of the land.

Beauty in the open landscape, beauty though time. His roots are old and dug in deep, just as the house.

Roots of stone through white-painted time.


	2. Land

**2. Land**

When he looks out the window, early in the morning, all he sees is a dance of white fog.

Green leaves whispering about the beauty of the land. Green leaves singing about the new day scent.

The sun rises, and the curtain of fog and elfin veils become little flocks of sheep, herds of chestnut horses against the red horizon.

In the evening, late November, the sky has the same colour as eternity, strewn with little stars; silver eyes looking down at him.

This is his world. This is his land. This is his heart.


	3. Duty

**3. Duty**

Duty is another word for cannot. Duty is an excuse, an apology, a reason, a blindfold.  
Duty is a fence. A prison.  
Duty is a pattern.

'It is your duty,' your father says. 'You cannot marry for love.' You already knew the answer before you had asked the question.  
'It is your duty,' your mother says. 'We have to protect our world.'  
'It is your duty, your Master says, 'to be willing to die for me. To prove your faith in me. To prove your allegiance.'

'It is your duty,' you say, pulling the worn-out straitjacket over your son's life. 


	4. Father

**4. Father**

No matter how the world looks. No matter how rainy the day is, or how stormy the waves.  
He is your private sun, pale and golden.

You remember. His first steps. His first word; a disappointment to you, but not to his mother. His smile and laughter as he called out an insecure _mum_!  
He is your pride. He is your joy and no one can take him away from you. His first wand, his first spell.

You remember. No one can take the pale, golden memories away.

They are all you have brought with you to your prison cell.


	5. Friendship

**5. Friendship**

You band of brothers, you happy few.  
You can all strip your sleeves and show your scars, all show your marks, and you will, just as soldiers, to the battlefield go.

A mark of friendship. A mark of shame. What once was is dissolving in the shadows of war. Here is no 'To the Death' cried out for your friends, no Fleur-de-Lys or Flamme d'Or. No bravery. Here are but schemes and plans and poniard-sharp elbows, stabbing and pushing. Knives hit backs before your very eyes.

Friendship is a luxury, faith a lie.

You band of brothers, you happy few. 


	6. Prison

**7. Prison**

Every day he sits by the window, the windowsill cold stone against his worn robe.

He is watching the waves.  
Seagulls float, screaming, on the wind like little boats caught in the water.  
He envies them the wings, the freedom to dive and scream.

He wish he were a bird, hovering over the land or the sea, fighting the wind and the waves.  
He wish he could fly, just for a day. He wish he could wish and maybe his wishes would have wings.

But here between the bars and the prison walls there is no room for angel wings. 


	7. Galleons

**8. Galleons**

They mean nothing to him. They are but symbols. Little pieces of nothing but metal.  
They are not love. They are not pride. They are not honour.

How is he supposed to appreciate them, they are an unstoppable flood, just a convenient little vault in Gringott's.  
Can they buy him the world he loves? Can they buy him kisses from his lover or the tender look in his black eyes?  
Can they buy him thousand years of wizarding ancestry?

They buy only those whose hearts are for sale, and hearts for sale are colder than the red gold he holds. 


	8. Master

**9. Master**

You stand proud next to him, your hair shining like a fallen angel's halo. You are beautiful. Powerful. You have everything a man can want for, yet you need more.  
You kneel before him, a lost child come into his power. A bastard of no family, a stray stepping in to take what you have worked for most of your life.  
You bend your head for him and let him step on your reputation, your riches, your everything.

'Yes, Master,' you agree, and every moment you regret.

When you have given away everything sacred, then what is left but death? 


	9. Failure

**10. Failure**

'The Prophecy, Lucius,' he says. 'Where is it?'

Your grey eyes betray nothing and you betray no one. You are not a coward. You are their leader. 'My Lord,' you say, and inside you your words echo of contempt. 'I was not able to retrieve it.' There is nothing else to say, and you know this will cost you dearly.

'I see,' the Dark Lord says. 'You were run over by a band of children like a dog by the Knight Bus?'

You nod, once. It is the truth.

There is but one thing to say,' your Lord whispers. 'Crucio!' 


	10. Fear

**11. Fear**

'He has ordered Draco to do it.' Narcissa's eyes are cold, but you can tell she is crying inside, being brave for you. 'What are we going to do?'

Your heart beats; a rhythm of fear. The man you thought would save you is tearing down your world.

Narcissa looks up, her eyes haunted by the ghost of times to come. 'He hates you, love. He is going to kill our son.'

'No,' you say and smile; a bitter smile. 'He will not. Go to Severus.' You know what your lover is, and you have just given him your family. 


	11. Murder

**12. Murder**

Severus slips the vial into your hand. Just the look of you touching the black-haired boy owes you a strict look from your father. 'I will not let you see him,' Abraxas says. 'You are going to marry no matter what unnatural tendencies you have.'

You know. You have your duty to family, to history, to tradition. You will do what he says. This time.

'I will not let you see him, Abraxas says, smiling at your pregnant wife. 'Priorities, Lucius.'

But you will not let your father rule your life. Three drops of Severus' poison makes your father stop. 


End file.
